


A Beneficial Arrangement

by Accident, detafo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case? What Case?, First Kiss, First Time, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nervous Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock tries to be cool but he's just a love sick baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accident/pseuds/Accident, https://archiveofourown.org/users/detafo/pseuds/detafo
Summary: Sherlock is worried about losing John to the next woman who comes along and lets him get a leg over. What better way to solve this problem than being friends with benefits?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67
Collections: Be my Valentine - Johnlock Collection, Detafo and Accident's (FuckOffWatson) RP Collabs





	A Beneficial Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janto321 (FaceofMer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/gifts).



> Hi! Detafo had the idea to make a little treat for Janto321 (we're a little late to the party but making up for it with smut so umm win win right?) so we hope you enjoy!
> 
> General PSA I'm going to be putting on all fics from now on:  
> There are all kinds of fics out there and if this one doesn't suit your tastes I have some advice!  
> Step 1: Don't like what you're reading? Stop reading and find something else!  
> Step 2: Can't find what you want to read? Write it yourself! Only you know exactly the content you want to consume so go ahead and try creating it yourself!
> 
> Thanks for reading this PSA <3

“John?” Sherlock asks, brow raised. “John are you listening to me?” He sighs, hating to repeat himself. It was late in the afternoon and they’d just finished dinner, Thai takeaway while watching a Doctor Who marathon. “I asked you if you want to be friends with benefits.” He says again while John just looks at him completely gobsmacked.  
Sherlock knew John was in the midst of a dry spell, not having been out with a woman in some months now. Even his flirting had decreased to next to none even when the women were obviously interested in him or even coming onto him. He had watched John gently rebuff a few advances but they had been in the middle of cases so Sherlock knew the Work came first for John as well, hence friends with benefits. If he and John had sex then John would get his itch scratched and they could both focus on the work. Plus Sherlock wouldn’t have to worry so much about John going out and getting overly attached to some dull woman. Yes, friends with benefits was the perfect solution.

John had been happy to watch Doctor Who... Bit of a guilty pleasure, really. So, when Sherlock had called his attention away from the television with the forward and, rather unexpected question, he'd felt his throat go dry. Had he been a little too forward, himself? He'd found himself contemplating the fact that he enjoyed being with Sherlock, enjoyed giving the detective his attention... So much so, that he'd realised that he was drawing further and further away from the dating scene, content to sit with Sherlock, either reading or watching telly.  
He'd contemplated the reason for a long time, staring at the ceiling above his bed at night, until it had hit him like a freight train at three in the morning. He was in love with Sherlock Holmes.  
And now, here was the man in question, asking if he wanted a friend's with benefits arrangement with him.  
"You... I thought you said you were married to your work?" He asked, voice cracking slightly.

“You’re obviously part of the work John.” Sherlock scoffs as if that was the most ridiculous thing John could have said.

John's jaw is practically on the tabletop and he blinks. "I'm... Part... Of the work?" He squeaked. He chewed his lip. "Sherlock... I know it's no secret that I like sex, but..." He stops, thinking. "You've never seemed like you were interested?" He finished, lamely.

“Interested in sex? Of course I’m interested in sex, John. It’s one of the biggest motivations for murder.” Sherlock looks confused.

John looked perplexed. "You've never brought anyone home." He pointed out. "Are you interested in practice, or only theory?"

“I never half arsed anything and I’m not going to start now. Of course it’s in practice. Whether or not I brought anyone home is neither here nor there.” Sherlock waves his hand.

John swallows. He wouldn't deny that Sherlock had the insane ability to make John hard just by giving him a Look, but... "Prove it." He finally said, feeling bold.

Sherlock smirks, something primal and raging hot in his eyes. “You sure you want me to prove it, John?”

John squares his jaw, nodding once, before he loses his nerve.

Sherlock gets up and in one smooth fluid movement he straddles John’s lap. “I’m going to kiss you now, John.” He says quietly before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to John’s.

John inhaled sharply in surprise as Sherlock kissed him, humming softly and opening his mouth to allow Sherlock entrance.

Sherlock slowly licks into John’s mouth as he cups John’s face in his large hands. He slides his tongue along John’s as he grinds down against him teasingly.

John can't help the groan deep in his throat. Pulling back slightly to catch his breath, he looks up at Sherlock, panting. "Sherlock..." He breathed, before drawing him in for another kiss.

Sherlock deepens the kiss, feeling John getting hard underneath him.

John whines into the kiss, every brush of Sherlock's crotch against his sending sparks up his spine. His hips thrust slowly against Sherlock.

Sherlock breaks the kiss and sucks on John’s neck as he slides off his lap onto the floor. “Can I help with this?” He rubs his palm over the bulge in John’s trousers.

John hisses, swallowing hard and nods emphatically. "Sherlock..." He groans.

Sherlock opens John’s trousers and snakes his hand inside, pulling John's cock out through the slot in his boxers. _Fuck, he’s bigger that I estimated_ He thinks to himself as he swallows the rush of saliva. He leans in and kisses the tip of John’s cock as he strokes him gently, looking up at John as he does so.

John is slumped in his chair, watching Sherlock intensely with hooded eyes, panting. "Jesus..." He murmurs, before moaning aloud at Sherlock's stroking.

Sherlock slowly takes John into his mouth, watching his face for cues.

"Holy-!" John drops his head back as he feels Sherlock's sinful mouth on him. "Fuuuck..." He rasped, moving his hips with Sherlock's bobbing.

Sherlock works his tongue on the underside of John’s cock, pulling back to lick the head before taking him down again.

John groans, hands fisting Sherlock's hair, pulling at it. "Jesus fuck, Sherlock..." He moaned.

Sherlock groans as John pulls his hair. He strokes John’s cock and focuses his attention on the fat plump tip.

John whines softly. Surely this can't really be happening? This is just an erotic dream? He panted, pulling at Sherlock's hair again. "Sherlock..." He growled. "Fuck..."

Sherlock smirks around John’s cock and let’s it go, keeping the head in his mouth so John can fuck his face.

John whines, thrusting his hips against Sherlock's face.  
_What the hell am I doing?!_ The clear thought rang through his lust addled brain and he pushed Sherlock away, panting. "What... What the actual fuck, Sherlock?!" He wheezes.

Sherlock frowns and licks his lips. “What?”

"Just... Just what the hell is going on?" John struggles to stuff his erection in his pants. "Is this a brilliant dream, or... Or..."

“You told me to prove it so I was proving it. Don’t you want to be friends with benefits? You were liking it for the most part.” Sherlock pouts on his knees.

John swallows hard. He did like it. Loved it, in fact. Sherlock's mouth was sinfully gorgeous, and felt twice as good wrapped around his cock. He turned lustful, yet troubled eyes to Sherlock's pouting face and scrubbed hands over his own. "Fuck..." He whispers.

“I apologize. I was mistaken.” Sherlock stands, moving stiffly as he moves away. _Stupid! Stupid stupid! You’ve ruined everything!_ He growls at himself in his head.

"Sherlock." John swallows. "I don't know if this is a fantasy or real life right now." He palmed the lump in his trousers. "But... When you say friends with benefits... Are you willing to go... All the way? Not just the odd handjob or blowjob...?" _What the hell was he even asking for?_

“Obviously, John. You enjoy sex in all forms. Penetrative sex is clearly on the table.” Sherlock nods, turning back to look at John.

John's eyes widened. "H-how long have you wanted this?"

 _Since the day we met._ “That’s neither here nor there, John.” Sherlock waves away the question. “Do you want to be friends with benefits or not?”

John huffs. "I'll answer your question if you answer mine." He said, firmly.

Sherlock huffs back as well, his trousered uncomfortably tight. “A while.”

John looks at him for a long moment. He sighs deeply. "I do."

“You need boundaries then. What are you okay and no okay with?” Sherlock sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.

John falls into his chair, closing his eyes and breathes through his nose. _Whatever you're willing to give me..._ He thought. "I..."

“Hand jobs, blow jobs, and penetrative sex is all fair game, correct?” Sherlock asks.

John nodded slowly.

“And I assume kissing as well?” Sherlock raises a brow.

"Yes." He whispers. "I like kissing... Very much."

“Touching? Cuddling?” Sherlock wills himself not to blush. _Intimacy?_

John nods again. "What about you. What do _you_ want?" He cleared his throat.

 _You_ Sherlock stops himself from saying. “All of those things.”

John smiles. "Really?" He says softly. "The truth, Sherlock."

“It is the truth. The Work stays separate from this.” Sherlock nods.

John sighs. "Sherlock... If we do this... There's no going back." He bites his lip.

“I understand that, John. It’s just friends with benefits. When it’s no longer mutually beneficial then it’s over.” Sherlock nods.

 _But I don't want it to be over..._ John swallows. "Shall..." He cleared his throat. "Shall we take this up to my room?"

Sherlock nods. “You have more supplies than I do.”

John raises his eyebrows. "Been snooping again, have you?" His tone was light and there was a small smile on his face.

“You’re just more sexually active than I am.” Sherlock shrugs and stands.

John takes his hand and leads him upstairs.

Sherlock holds John’s hand, hoping his own isn’t shaking with excitement.

John is quiet, pinching himself. This isn't a dream. Entering his bedroom, he closes the door behind Sherlock and breathes deeply.

Sherlock looks John up and down. “I think this is the part where we get undressed.”

John chuckles softly. "May I watch you undress?"

“John, you’re going to fuck me, you’re going to see me naked.” Sherlock smiles a bit and unbuttons his cuffs.

John feels his cock swell again. "Jesus..." He murmured. He hands drift up to begin undoing his own shirt.

Sherlock strips off his shirt, making sure John stays in front of him. He didn’t want him to see his back. To see the scars. He moves forward and kisses John deeply, his hands opening John’s trousers.

John took a deep breath, kissing the taller man. He pulled back and looked at Sherlock with dark eyes as he pulled his shirt off.

Sherlock looks at John’s exposed chest, memorizing it. “Can I..” He looks at John’s scar.

John hesitates slightly, but nods, slowly.

Sherlock leans in and gently kisses John’s scar.

John inhaled sharply. When with women, he usually left his undershirt on. He whimpers.

Sherlock wraps his arms around John, holding him close as he presses kisses to his scar.

John groans softly, fingers splayed over Sherlock's shoulders. His fingertips graze the raised scar tissue and he looks down. "Oh... Sherlock..." He whispers. "What...?"

Sherlock stiffens and his breathing is shallow. “When I was away... dead.. I got caught..”

John felt something tighten in his chest as he brushed his fingers over the many scars. "Do they hurt?" He whispers.

Sherlock trembles a bit. No one had touched his scars. “Not anymore. Only when it’s cold or raining.”

John felt a tug at the tightness in his chest. He stroked his fingers over the scars gently. "I still think you're beautiful..." He blurted.

Sherlock blushes brightly, he’s sure John can feel the heat coming from his face. “You’re very attractive yourself.”

John's face was blazing, but he stroked the scars again.

“You won’t think I’m beautiful when you see them..” Sherlock says quietly.

"I'm looking at them _right now_ , Sherlock." John whispers. "And you are beautiful."

Sherlock just holds onto John, this isn’t going at all like he planned.

"I'm sorry..." John murmured. "Not very good FWB conversation." He said, stroking the man's hair.

“We’ve never been exactly normal so I suppose it should carry over to this as well.” Sherlock kisses John’s neck. “I’d still like for you to fuck me..”

John hesitates for just a fraction of a second. "Okay."

“You don’t have to. I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me physically because of.. My scars.” Sherlock whispers. He was disfigured, he would understand if John was no longer attracted to him. He could barely look at his back in the mirror most days. Hated how the pull of the tight scarred skin would remind him of what happened when he moved. If John didn’t want him because he was scared and broken it made sense, it was fine. Sherlock certainly wouldn’t push for anything that John wasn’t comfortable with and if John didn't want to be with him physically then that would be fine too.

"Sherlock!" John is perplexed. "I've loved you since ... Since..." _Soldiers, Watson._ "Since you asked me to accompany you to the pink lady's body." He murmured. "Scars be damned. They are a part of you, like mine is of me."

Sherlock just blinks, seemingly having gone offline.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock just looks at him, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, getting a bit scary now."

Sherlock figures he didn’t hear John right and blinks coming back to himself. _Now I’m just hearing what I want_ He thinks to himself. “Sex?” He says.

John combs his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "Sherlock, listen to me." He murmurs. "Did you understand what I said?"

“That our scars are part of us.” Sherlock nods.

"And what did I say before that?"

“You.. you said it?” Sherlock blushes.

"That I love you? Yes!" John smiles.

“Oh.” Sherlock blushes brightly, in shock.

John felt a weight drop from his shoulders. "Kiss me?"

Sherlock leans in and kisses John.

John presses a hesitant kiss to Sherlock's lips and sighs happily.

Sherlock slowly lays back onto John’s bed, pulling John down with him.

John straddles Sherlock's thighs, pressing their still-clothed groins together, moaning softly.

Sherlock moans softly, rocking up against John.

John smiles and slowly presses his hand into Sherlock's pants, groaning softly at the thickness under his fingers.

“Oh John..” Sherlock groans.

"Sherlock..." John moans. He wriggled down the bed and nuzzles at the distended crotch of Sherlock's pants.

Sherlock blushes brightly as he looks down at John, panting.

John looks up at him. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

“John.” Sherlock squirms. “Please.”

John smiles and quickly manages to get their trousers and pants off. He groans at the sight of Sherlock's cock. Dipping down to press a kiss to the head, he smiles.

Sherlock gasps and whimpers, his hands covering his face. He was the one that proposed this stupid idea and now he’s lost total control. _Focus focus!_ He takes a few deep breaths. “Do you want to finger more or shall I?” He ignores how his voice trembles.

"You want my fingers?" John asked, tracing a finger over Sherlock's tight pucker.

“Yes. Yes. Wanted them for so long, John.” Sherlock nods, spreading his legs.

John smiles and slowly licks his fingers. Pressing the first slowly into Sherlock.

Sherlock gasps. He wanted this. He wanted John. So bad.

"Talk to me, Sherlock. Tell me what you want." He begins to move his fingers slowly.

“You. You. Your cock. Want it. Deep. John. Fuck me. Need you.” Sherlock babbles, he feels like his skin is on fire.

John smiles slightly, beginning to thrust his finger into the tight heat.

Sherlock tries not to sob with need. He’s waited so long. So so long. No one has ever touched him like this besides himself and that’s only when he’s thinking of John. “Please please please.”

John slowly enters another finger, scissoring slowly. "Stay with me, Sherlock..." He purrs.

“Always. Always with you. Never going to leave you again. I promise.” Sherlock babbles, hands hiding his face. He can feel his cock throbbing and leaking against his belly.

John smiles. Gradually, he enters a third finger, spreading the digits, widening Sherlock's entrance.

Sherlock’s breathing is ragged, his hair is wrecked grime squirming and sweating. “John.. John. Please, John.” His voice hoarse with need.

John bites his lip. "You're beautiful." He murmured. Extracting his fingers, he opened a drawer and got a bottle of lube and a condom.

“Please. Want you. Need you. God, John, please.” Sherlock really is far gone using religious expletives.

John tears the foil and rolls the condom onto his cock. Holding Sherlock's hip, he lubed up and pushed into him.

“Yes!” Sherlock cries out in relief as he wraps his arms and legs around John.

John stills for a moment, looking at the wanton angel beneath him. "Beautiful." He begins to move.

“Yours.” Sherlock’s mind letting him say things he’d never say when he was fully in control.

"Mine." John agrees, thrust his hips shallowly.

“You’re so big. New you’d be big. You have a big cock walk. Fucking delicious.” Sherlock giggles, high on endorphins.

John chuckles. "You cockhound." He muses, playfully. He begins to thrust harder.

“Just yours, John. Only yours.” Sherlock purrs as John starts to really fuck him.

John leans forward, over Sherlock's body. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't even remember your own name."

“Do it. Do it. Don’t want to think.” Sherlock nods, holding onto John for dear life.

John grins and draws one of Sherlock's legs up to his shoulder, changing the angle, slamming his hips into the taller man's.

“Yes!” Sherlock’s nails dig into the back of John’s arms.

John growls, thrusting hard. "Mine." He growls. "Only MINE."

“Yes!” Sherlock cries out. “Yours! Only yours!”

John wraps a hand around Sherlock's cock, jerking him in time.

“John John John John John John.” Sherlock chants until he goes still, coming hard.

John groans as Sherlock tightens around him and he cums hard. "Jeeeezus...."

Sherlock trembles, keeping his hands over his face.

John flops against him, panting. "Sherlock?"

“Mm..” Sherlock mumbles.

"Alright, love?"

Sherlock mumbles and nods. He had lost control totally. He thought he’d be able to keep it together but it was too much. He loved John too much. “Was good..” He mumbles.

"Sherlock, look at me." John says gently, rolling to the side and disposing of the condom. "Look at me, love."

Sherlock rolls over and looks at him. He looks absolutely debauched.

John sits against the pillows and smiles down at him. "You look beautiful." He murmured softly, brushing a wayward curl out of his lover's face.

Sherlock rolls over and curls up against John, his face pressed to John’s hip as he wraps an arm around John’s waist.

John chuckles. "Comfortable?"

“Mm very.” Sherlock relaxes.

John leans back against the pillows, gently stroking two fingers up and down Sherlock's back. "Thank you." He murmured. His eyes began to close and her hums softly.

Sherlock blushes and nuzzles him. “Anything for you.” He says softly.

John smiles as he falls into a deep slumber.

Sherlock holds John and he feels a little hollow. _Was this all John really wanted? He said he loved me but that must have just been the sex talking._ He pets John’s hair gently and comes up with a plan to keep John as long as possible. He’d fulfill all of John’s needs. Or as many as he could. Not just sex but excitement and danger and domesticity. He could do it. He had to do it. To keep John.

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The next morning, John roused early. He opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock's prone form. "Mmm... morning."

“Good morning, John. Sleep well?” Sherlock asks, leaning in and kissing John.

John smiles, kissing him back. "Pretty well." He murmurs. "Mmm... c'mere..." He tugs Sherlock to him.

Sherlock presses closer. “How about a morning blow job and I’ll make breakfast while you shower?” He nips at John’s jaw.

John chuckles softly. "Someone's libido is raring to go..." He teased, kissing the man's forehead. "Go on, then."

Sherlock grins and kisses down his body. He nuzzles John’s cock, kissing and licking teasingly.

John inhales quickly, his morning erection coming back to full mast. "Mmm..."

Sherlock licks from base to tip, rolling John’s balls in his hand.

John presses his head back into the pillows, burying fingers in Sherlock's curls. "Fuuuuck..."

Sherlock looks up at John and takes his cock down his throat.

John watches with wide eyes, as his cock disappears down Sherlock's throat. "Fuck, that's hot..." He moans, tugging Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock groans as his hair is pulled, bobbing his head slowly.

John huffs softly, pumping his hips. "Christ your mouth is fucking sinful."

Sherlock swallows around him, tugging on his balls gently.

John groans, feeling his orgasm begin in his belly. "God, I just want to fuck that pretty mouth..." He mutters.

Sherlock groans and nods, pulling off John’s cock. “I’ll sit back against the headboard and you can hold onto it as you fuck my face.”

John groans at loss of contact. "Is that what you want, Sherlock?" He murmurs.

“Yes.” Sherlock nods and licks his lips, sitting back against the headboard. “Come here and fuck my face.”

John slowly gets up and stands over Sherlock, guiding his cock into Sherlock's waiting mouth. Holding onto the headboard with both hands, he slowly begins to pump his hips.

Sherlock relaxes his throat and presses closer to take more of John’s cock. He wants to make this good for John, so good.

John thrusts his hips faster, chasing orgasm. He groans as he feels it boiling at the base of his spine.

Sherlock groans, drool running past his lips. He teasingly presses a finger against John’s arsehole.

"FUCK!" John growls, sparks beginning to shoot up his spine. "Again..."

Sherlock presses against, swallowing around his cock.

John comes undone suddenly, fingers digging into the wooden bed head and he rides his orgasm.

Sherlock swallows over and over, his nose pressing against John’s skin.

John gently pulls out and straddles Sherlock's thighs. "Mmmm... you certainly know how to swallow cock." He murmurs.

“Liked it?” Sherlock licks his lips, his voice a bit hoarse.

"Loved it." John admitted.

“Good.” Sherlock blushes and smiles happily. “What would you like for breakfast?”

"Surprise me." John smiled. "I've got to shower... gonna be late for work, otherwise."

“Mm alright.” Sherlock nods and kisses John. “Gotta let me up.”

John huffed. "Spoil sport." He teases, but gets up, heading into the bathroom.

Sherlock grins and goes down to make John breakfast.

John showers quickly and knots a towel around his waist before heading up to his room to change into work clothes.

Sherlock has a plate of bacon, sausages, eggs, toast, coffee, and fresh cut up fruit on the table by the time John comes down.

"Bloody hell, you went all out." John chuckles. "Trying to feed me up so I have energy to fuck you again?" He teases.

“When you come home. Not enough time before work and you get grumpy when you’re late.” Sherlock pours him a steaming cup of coffee.

John snorts. "True. What me to bring home dinner?"

“If you want. I was going to harass Lestrade and see if he has anything new.” Sherlock nods and sits after making up John’s coffee just how he likes. He starts to eat, knowing it pleases John when he eats.

John smirks. "I'll bring home Indian." He murmurs, eating quickly, impressed that Sherlock is eating as well.

“Make sure to get plenty of naan.” Sherlock nods, pushing some egg onto his toast before taking a bit.

John salutes as he gets up, smirking. "Yes, sir."

Sherlock smirks. “Lunch is on the table in a bag downstairs with a travel mug of coffee.”

John quirks a brow. _What on earth...?_ But he nods. "Thanks, love." He murmurs, grinning, pressing a quick kiss to Sherlock's lips and heading out the door. He knew it was supposed to be a Friends with Benefits sort of deal, but after a mind altering blow job, AND breakfast, AND a bag lunch.... SHerlock deserved a kiss at least.

Sherlock blushes, too busy trying to remember the feeling of John’s lips on his to say goodbye.

John heads off, taking his lunch and coffee with him.

Sherlock cleans up the kitchen before heading the Yard to pester Greg.

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John swings the shopping bag containing dinner in his right hand as his left fumbles with the keys to open the door. Finally opening the front door, he starts up the stairs. Once in the living room, he sighs and hefts the bag onto the desk.

“Mm welcome home.” Sherlock hums from the kitchen, hunched over his microscope. Usually he wouldn’t even acknowledge John but he was making an effort so John felt seen.

John chuckles, despite himself. "Jesus, the statue talks." He teases. "Grab us some plates, yeah? We'll dole out this food. The smell is making me hungry."

Sherlock unfolds from the microscope and gets plates. He flicks on the kettle before bringing them to John. “How was work?” He asks, though he’s already deduced it but he knows John likes telling him about his day anyway.

"Crap." John shrugged. "Usual sniffles and colds, one or two cases of food poisoning... luckily I didn't get puked on this time." He made a face.

Sherlock hums and nods. “You hate changing at the clinic. Makes you feel germy all the way home.”

"And also, I don't have a change of clothes at the office. I'd have to wear scrubs home."

“Far to clinical for your usual jumper appetite.” Sherlock smirks and goes to get their tea as the kettle clicks off.

"Smartarse." John smirks.

“I think you’d look sexy in scrubs.” Sherlock says and then blushes furiously, his brain having said it without him stopping himself. _Christ, one day of sleeping with him and my brain is already turning to mush_.

John laughs quietly. "I will admit, they can be quite comfortable. I used to wear the bottoms as pajamas in my student days." He mused. "I'd nick off with a pair every other month."

 _Ohhh John liked that. He likes it when I’m forward._ “Maybe you can borrow another set and we can play doctor.” Sherlock smirks as he brings in their tea.

John smirks, raising both eyebrows. "Kinky boy." He grins. "Didn't think you'd be the type."

 _I’d do anything to keep you._ “I’m open to things.” Sherlock shrugs nonchalantly.

John sits in his chair. "Sherlock," he says, seriously. "What's going on?"

“Dinner?” Sherlock raises a brow and sits, portioning out some things onto his plate before taking a bite.

John stared at him, portioning his own. "You're not getting out of it that easily. "

“Getting out of what? Propositioning me?” Sherlock licks some sauce from his finger in a suggestive manner.

"Sherlock. Talk to me." John said, softly. "Please... what's going on? Why are you... acting this way?" He's confused, but not angry. In fact, he's a little turned on, but he still needs Sherlock to talk to him.

“We’re friends with benefits. I can.. Flirt now.” Sherlock blushes a bit.

"This is more than flirting, love." John says, gently. "Don't get me wrong, it's lovely... but this is ... wow."

“You’re thinking too much into it.” Sherlock blushes more.

"Am I?" John smiles.

Sherlock blushes and nods, eating his dinner.

"Then why are you blushing?"

“I’m not. Just warm. It’s hot in here.”

John gave him his best unimpressed stare. "Fine, don't tell me. But... remember we talked about consent before doing experiments on me?" He said. "I don't want to lose another Wednesday."

“No experiments without discussion.” Sherlock nods.

John eyes him. Something wasn't totally right here. He spooned a mouthful of mild curry and chewed carefully.

Sherlock eats, avoiding eye contact.

John wipes up the remaining curry with a piece of naan and chews. "Well, I think it's time for some crap telly and a drink." He mused.

Sherlock hums and nods. “Got your favorite beer while I was out.”

John looked at him. "Thanks, love." He murmured. Heading to the kitchen, he put his plates in the sink, rinsing them off, and grabbed his beer from the fridge. _Huh... no body parts..._

Sherlock moves to the couch and turns on the telly, waiting for John to come back.

John brings his beer back and sits on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. "Anything you fancy?"

“Dr. Who is on. Again. Or that one where they bake in the tent.” Sherlock hums.

"You don't like either of those shows." John pointed out. "What about _Strictly Come Dancing_?"

Sherlock blushes a bit and nods, he loved watching the dancing but he’d never admit it.

John chuckles and turns the show on. He knew Sherlock secretly loved it. John didn't mind it himself, there were some wonderful dancers.

Sherlock leans against John a little.

John smiles and puts an arm around him.

Sherlock blushes and relaxes against John.

John settles back and watches quietly, fingers trailing up and down Sherlock's back, absently.

Sherlock watches intently, biting his lip.

"S'wrong?" John asks, lazily.

“His leg is weak. He’s gonna fall.” Sherlock hums.

John chuckles. "Too bad, I was liking his dance. His partner's not going to be happy."

“I’d think not since he’s going to land on her. Oh there they go.” Sherlock frowns, watching the man crumple onto his partner.

John winced. "Oh, that's going to hurt.... and so is that black eye she just gave him." He giggled.

Sherlock laughs. “That’s going to eliminate them for sure.”

John chuckles as the scores went up, the female of the pair stamped off in a huff, trailing a dejected partner. "There's more drama in this than the soaps."

Sherlock hums and nods. “He was too stiff anyway. You have to relax. Give into the music and it’ll carry you.” He smiles softly.

"Did you take Dance as an elective?" John asks, curiously.

“I..” Sherlock blushes a bit. “I was a ballerina.”

John nods. "Explains the graceful way you move." He murmurs, not surprised by this revelation. "Though... isn't the proper term a ballerino? I mean... for male ballet dancers?" It was a genuine question. He'd heard the term before.

“Yes, you’re right.” Sherlock smiles, pleased John knew the term.

John chuckles. "I'm not all stupid." He winks.

“You’re quite intelligent, John. It’s refreshing.” Sherlock chuckles.

John snorted. "That's the first time I've heard that from your mouth." He teases. He drops a kiss on Sherlock's curls.

“You’re invaluable to me, John. Who knows where I’d be without you or even if I’d still be here.” Sherlock says, not realizing how heavy his words were.

John's quiet for a long moment. "Hey," He says, finally. "Come here..." He presses his lips to Sherlock's in a deep kiss.

Sherlock is stunned for a moment before he kisses John back, slowly wrapping his arms around John’s neck. “I’ve upset you.” He frowns against John’s lips. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.” He straddles John’s lap. He can’t make John upset or else John won’t want to stay, he has to fix this.

John shakes his head. "You haven't upset me, love." He murmurs. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you, love you." He swallows. "You know if you're ever feeling bad, or low, you can talk to me, right?"

Sherlock blinks, confused. “I know that, John.” He nods slowly. _He said it again. Said he loved me. Without the possibility of sex being stopped.._

John looks up at him. "Okay..." He says, not completely sure if Sherlock actually means it.

Sherlock presses their foreheads together and just holds onto John, needing to be close and since he can do this now he’s going to soak up as much as he can.

John chuckles softly. "My, you are cuddly this evening." He purrs.

“I enjoy being close to you and touching. People don’t touch me and I don’t touch them. Except you. It’s only ever you. You’re the exception to all the rules, John.” Sherlock says softly, eyes close.

John smiles and leans forward to kiss his throat. "Well, I'm glad." He hums.

Sherlock melts as John kisses his throat.

John chuckles. "You okay?"

Sherlock blushes and nods. “That felt nice.” _Everything you do feels nice. How do you do that? Do I make you feel nice too?_

John kisses him on the throat again, sucking a small red welt to the surface.

Sherlock gasps softly and arches a bit.

John giggles breathily.

Sherlock leans in and kisses John, wanting to taste what his giggles tasted like.

John moans softly into the kiss, hands gripping Sherlock's rump, subconsciously grinding into him.

Sherlock groans, grinding down against John and into his hands.

John nips at Sherlock's lower lip, and kisses hard.

Sherlock whines, licking into John’s mouth as he grinds against him. Somewhere in the flat one of their phones starts ringing.

John grumbles. "Fucking hell..."

Sherlock growls and gets up, going to get the phone when he’d much rather be in John’s lap snogging him like his life depends on it. He picks up his phone and answers it. “What, Lestrade?” He snaps. He’d pestered Greg for a case earlier but there was nothing on.

"Oi, don't get all snarky at me after you've been begging me for a case all day." Lestrade said, snarkily.

“I was in the middle of something. Whatever you calling about better be a seven, no eight, or higher or else I’m not coming.” Sherlock rolls his eyes. He realized that he was potentially putting John before the work and he couldn’t care less if he tried.

Lestrade grumbles. "Your weird numbering system confuses me." He huffed. He detailed the case for Sherlock, before waiting patiently for the consulting detective to answer.

Sherlock bites his lip, the case was good, damn good. A man found hanging by his ankles and his throat cut, bled out in a butcher shop. No forced entry. Nothing caught on camera. Everything locked up tight. He grumbles. “We’ll be there in twenty. No, make it thirty.” He says and hangs up before going back to John.

John raises his eyebrows. "Must be good if you're giving me that look." He mused.

“I’ll suck you off and then we can go?” Sherlock kneels in front of John.

John shakes his head, smiling. "I'm all right. Let's just go." He murmured softly.

“Mm fine. When we get back then.” Sherlock hops up and grabs his coat.

John snorted and grabbed his coat again.

Sherlock trots down the stairs and out the door, flagging down a cab.

John stands next to him, feeling better that they're on a case.

Sherlock tells the cabbie the address and sits next to John, the excitement of a new case making his leg bounce.

John chuckles. "Like an excited puppy." He murmured.

Sherlock blushes a bit and nudges John teasingly.

John smirked. "Should I bring a rubber ball, or a frisbee for you to chase next time?" He teased.

“The only treat I need is you.” Sherlock hums.

John snorts. "Okay."

“All I need is you John.” Sherlock says and gets out of the cab when they park, leaving John to pay.

John rolls his eyes, pulling out his wallet and paying the cabbie. He trotted after Sherlock, shoving his hands in his pockets against the chill.

“John.” Greg nods, standing outside the butcher shop.

John nodded. "Greg." He murmured. "Bloody cold, isn't it."

“Fuckin freezing. He’s in a good mood though.” Greg nods to the inside at Sherlock prancing around inside.

"Mmmm.... He's been acting a bit weird lately." John mused.

“Weirder than usual?” Greg raises a brow.

"Much weirder." John muttered. "But... Not in a bad way, I guess. Just... Different."

“Oh God, he’s not using again is he?” Greg frowns, looking Sherlock over now trying to see any sign Sherlock had picked his drug addiction back up.

"No, no... I don't think that's it. He's ... Clingy. Like he doesn't want to lose me, or thinks I'm going to leave him in the lurch, but... Well, you know what we talked about, down the pub, last Saturday? About how I feel about him?"

Greg nods. “You finally admitted what the rest of us can see with our own eyes.”

John flushed slightly. "Yeah, well... I hadn't told Sherlock yet... But then he surprised me yesterday, about... Wanting to be friends with benefits." He mumbled. "And he's acting like... Like ... I dunno. 1950s housewife, maybe... With sex on the brain."

“Do you think he figured out what we talked about?” Greg looks surprised. He knew sherlock could figure out where and for how long they talked but only sometimes the actual content of the conversation.

"I don't think so...?" John shook his head. "I have to wonder if he's bothered to notice I'm not courting the ladies any more... But he hasn't said anything untoward to me."

“Huh.” Greg frowns. “We’ll keep an eye on him. You know he gets weird ideas sometimes.”

John shrugged. "Kay." He muttered. "Come on, surely it's warmer inside than out here."

Greg nods and leads John inside.  
Sherlock is crouched in front of the body, inspecting the neck wound.

John crouched next to him. "Clues?"

“He was strung up and bled out like cattle. A bucket or bowl was placed here, you can see the splatter on the floor but this circular space here is clean, the bucket theory is more likely considering blood volume. I need gloves.” Sherlock holds his hand out.  
Greg hands Sherlock a pair of gloves.  
Sherlock snaps on the gloves and unbuttons the man's shirt. “That will certainly make autopsy easier..” He hums, looking at the man’s chest that had been cut open in a Y shape and messily sewn back together with butcher's twine.

"Hmm... Classic Y section. Looks like a field autopsy meets a butcher's block." John murmured. "Will have to check with Molly to see if he still has all his organs."

Sherlock hums and thinks. “John, what’s today? The thirteenth?” He looks at him.

"Yeah. Why?" John looked at his phone to double check.

“This man is going to be missing his heart. Someone is going to be on the receiving end of a strange Valentine.” Sherlock stands.

"Oh, for God's sake." John made a face. "So... What do we do?"

Sherlock looks at his watch. “This must have happened just after the shop closed. The knives and deli slicer haven’t been cleaned yet. We need to talk to the other employees and whoever shopped here today. The killer is likely a patron who knew the shop's movements well enough to be able to stay after closing while the boss was cleaning up. Perhaps a last minute special order for Valentine’s Day got the person in the door.” He goes behind the counter, flipping through the order forms. “Mm a missing order receipt.” He pulls out a pad of paper from his pocket and rips off a sheet. He lays it over the order form and rubs a pencil over the top, getting an exact copy of the order.

John gives Lestrade a sidelong glance. "Brilliant." He said with a smile.

Greg writes down everything Sherlock is doing, giving John a shrug.  
Sherlock blushes and blinks a bit, trying to focus again. “Two ribeye steaks, seasoned and marinated for a John Smith, obviously not the real name.” He rolls his eyes. “And a phone number.”

"Want me to ring it? See if it's real?"

“You’re so well trained, John. I don’t even have to trick you into calling killers anymore.” Sherlock teases but he’s smiling that wonderful brilliant smile that’s only for John.

John laughs quietly. "Yes, well those days are long gone." He mused. He looked at Greg.

Greg looks absolutely shocked, feeling like he’s stepped into an alternative reality.  
“Call it, John. See what we get.” Sherlock lists off the number to John.

John quickly types in the number, puts it on speaker and waits for it to ring.  
"'Lo?" A gruff voice asked. "Jack Smythe, here."

Sherlock makes a face as if to say _Good God, really?_  
“Tell him he’s won a Valentine’s dinner for two at the Savoy for tomorrow at 7pm.” Sherlock whispers.

"Good evening, Mr Smythe." John said in his best posh voice. "I'm ringing on behalf of Harris Butcher's. Your purchase entered you into a Valentine's Day competition that you won. Dinner for two at the Savoy."  
"Eh? 'Arris Butcher? Don't know 'im, mate you got the wrong number. This is Smythe."

“Ask him if he knows of anyone who would have put his name on the order. A lover, an ex, a stalker.” Sherlock frowns.

"Just a minute, Mr Smythe." John shook his head. "Sherlock, it sounds like a very old man. What romantic enemies would he have made?"

Sherlock sighs frustrated. “It has to be someone he knows because they put down his number as well as a name that sounds similar to his.”

John gives Greg another look and turns back to the phone. "Are you there, Mr Smythe?" He asks loudly, clearly.  
"No need to bloody shout. 'm not deaf!" Smythe grumbled. "Won a contest, you say? Don't remember entering no competition. An' I got no one to take to some fancy posh knob for dinner, since Mrs Smythe passed, God rest 'er."  
"Oh, well... I'm terribly sorry Mr Smythe, I'll call the runner up." John said, pleasantly.  
"Wait a mo." Smythe said. "Me daughter's 'ere, I'll ask 'er if she knows summat." There was rustling and a young woman's voice in the background. John waited.

Sherlock listens carefully.

"You there?"  
"Yes, Mr Smythe?"  
""'M just puttin the daughter on." _rustle rustle_  
"Hello? This is Jane Smythe."  
"Miss Smythe, I was just telling your father that his entry has been drawn as the winner of our Valentine's Day competition at Harris Butcher's." John says. "Dinner for two at the Savoy."  
"Oh, well, that is lovely, but... Harris Butcher's? I don't think we've ever shopped there. We get our meat from Porterford's in Watling Street." Jane sounded confused. "Are you sure it was our name?"  
"John Smith..." John read out the phone number.  
"Oh... Oh!" Jane sounded annoyed. " _John Smith_ , that's not my father. I'm sorry. You've called the wrong person. You're looking for my Uncle. He used to live here, but... He moved out due to ... Differences of opinion."

“Ask her for the right phone number and address. Quickly!” Sherlock says, nearly vibrating.

"Would you happen to know where he's living?"  
"Last I heard, he was in a men's shelter down by the docks." Jane said. "I'd rather not see him again. He's not a good person. If he has won your competition, he'll probably sell it off for a bottle of cheap scotch. Good day." The phone disconnected.

Sherlock paces, thinking.

John puts his phone back in his pocket. "She said differences of opinion... What if the uncle... Propositioned her?"

“She could be in danger. Lestrade, send a team to look for the uncle at the shelter by the docks and get us the address of the niece.” Sherlock orders.

John sighs, rubbing his face.

Greg goes to do as Sherlock says.  
“What, John?” Sherlock looks him over.

"Nothing. Just thinking." John mused. "Jane said her uncle's name was Smith, not Smythe. I wonder if he's a maternal uncle, since he has a different surname to her father's." John yawned.

“Could be since the father didn’t seem to know him.” Sherlock nods.

"She said he lived there for a time. Maybe Jack's the one that booted him out. " John shrugged.

Sherlock hums and nods. “Need more data.”

John shrugs. "Okay."

“We’ll get the address from Lestrade and head there.”

John looked toward Lestrade who was on the phone. "Yeah, all right. Guessing it's going to be a long night."

Sherlock just hums, looking through the rest of the shop.

John leans against the wall, going through his phone until Lestrade is done with his, seemingly increasingly, heated phone call. Cocking an eyebrow, he looked at the detective inspector. "Anderson giving you grief, or what?"

“Pencil pushers giving me a hard time about getting the address.” Greg rolls his eyes.

John chuckled. "How many men's shelters are located at the docks?"

“More than you’d think. They’re trying to get the names of who’s staying where.”

John huffed. "That'll make his nibs happy." He rolled his eyes.

Greg sighs and nods. “What is up with him?”

"Like I was saying before." John waved a hand. "He seems to have the idea that I will leave if he doesn't satisfy my every whim."

“Mm..” Greg frowns.

John sighs. "I feel like if I.... Refuse... He'll be hurt and the insecurities will just mount up."

“You two need to have a serious talk.” Greg sighs, knowing that’s not their strong suit.

"Don't you think I've tried?" John mutters.

“Did you have a talk or did you do your version of a talk?” Greg raises a brow.

"I try to talk to him, he bails me up, starts kissing." John mutters.

“And you get distracted because you’re a slag.” Greg nods. “Write it down. Write down what you want to say and give it to him. That way he can’t distract you.”

"Oi, watch who you're calling slag, Mr 'Fuck the Government'..." John said, slyly.

“At least I don’t have to pretend to be friends with benefits just to be able to kiss him.” Greg looks at John pointedly.

John snapped his mouth shut, face burning hot. "Fuck off." He muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

“John, he’s desperate. Beyond desperate. Put him out of his misery for God sakes. He concocted this whole thing just to be in a pseudo relationship with you. He’s so fucking in love with you it’s bleeding out of every pore. Just be gentle with him, huh? The only thing he’s more desperate than is terrified.” Greg says softly.

John sighed and nodded, knowing his friend was right. "Sherlock? Hey! Sherlock! Can we talk? Privately?" He nodded towards the small office.

Sherlock pops up from behind the counter and frowns but goes to the office anyway. He starts snooping around there as well.

"Sherlock." John closed the door behind them. "Sherlock! Stop snooping. Please. Sit down."

“What’s the matter, John?” Sherlock frowns but he sits anyway. “Did Lestrade say something to upset you? I wouldn’t let it bother you. Ever since he started sleeping with Mycroft his brain has somehow congealed even more.” He rolls his eyes.

"No. Greg didn't upset me." John sighed. "I've been trying to talk to you for days, but I feel like you haven't heard me. Greg's just given me a kick up the arse about it, and quite rightly, too." He gave a slight grin. "No, I want to talk to you about... About this arrangement that we have."

Sherlock pales immediately. _It's over, already? Already? So soon? Too soon. What did I do wrong? I.. no. Lestrade. Lestrade!_ Sherlock stands with a snarl and bursts out of the little office heading straight for Lestrade. “What did you say to John?” He snaps, unchecked rage as he looms over Greg. “Exact words.” He hisses.

"SHERLOCK!" John bellows in his best Captain Watson voice. "GET BACK HERE. NOW!" He folded his arms over his chest. "I mean it. Back here. Now, please."

“No! No! It was going fine! It was fine! We were good! And then you talk to Lestrade and it’s over! No! He can’t do that! He can’t make you change your mind like that.” Sherlock says, sounding panicked. _Stupid stupid. I should have listened. I always listen. Stupid case. Stupid work. I should have been paying attention. Now I’m going to lose John again. I can’t. Can’t. I can’t breathe._ Sherlock looks at John, fear and sorrow plastered on his face before he flees the shop hastily, bolting down the street disappearing in the dark. He had to get out. Get away. Breathe.

John sighed and shot Greg a look, as if to say ' _see?_ '. He watched as Sherlock bolted like a scared rabbit. "Jesus fuck..." He swore. "He won't listen to me. He won't _fucking listen_." John took out his phone, grateful that Mycroft had shared the GPS tracking code in Sherlock's phone. He watched the little dot speed away from his immediate vicinity. "Any idea where he might be headed?" He sighed.

Greg thinks. “None of his usual haunts are around here. He’ll head back deeper into the city. Want me to get Mycroft to send one of his people to pick him up before he does something stupid?”

"Shit." John groused. "Might be an idea. I'll go on foot... he might've gone to Covent Garden to watch tourists... Call me with the address. Right now, I've got a boyfriend to find." He rolled his eyes. "I'm blaming you for this." He added with a rueful smile. He hurried out the door and in the direction Sherlock had raced.

“I’ll pay you back by being the best man!” Greg laughs and calls Mycroft.

"That's if I find him, you dumbass!" John raced off.  
"Gregory?" Mycroft enquired as he answered the phone. "Is everything all right?"

“Hey, My. Yeah umm John tried to confess his feelings at a crime scene and Sherlock got the complete wrong idea before he booked it. Think you can send someone to pick him up before he does something stupid?” Greg sighs.

Mycroft is quiet. "There's no need for that." He murmured. "He's here with me."

“Ah.. I should let John know then since she’s gone after Sherlock.” Greg hums.

"A wise idea." Mycroft hums. "I'll call you back." He hung up the phone and stared his brother down. "So, John wanted to tell you some important, and you, as always, decided to run away." He mused, steeping his fingers and watching his younger brother.

“He wanted it to be over, Mycroft!” Sherlock paces. He felt hot and everything felt too small. “I screwed up. I overlooked something. I didn’t do something right. I didn’t give him something he wanted. It’s always something. Something.” He sneers.

"Are you _quite_ sure, brother? Or are you merely assuming the worst?" Mycroft sighs. "You're far too impetuous, Sherlock. Why don't you give John a moment to speak his mind?"

“Because I can’t control what he says! If I can distract him for long enough he’ll forget and he’ll stay. He’ll stop looking for _girlfriends_.” Sherlock says with disgust. “He’ll just stay. He’ll stay forever and on day he’ll wake up and realize that we grew old together just like it was always meant to be!”

Mycroft smiles slightly. "Sherlock, have you noticed that there have been no partners of the female persuasion for John in many weeks? Possibly months?" He inquired. "He has rebuked many offers, of late..."

“He’s had dry spells before Mycroft. He just isn’t desperate enough yet to drop his standards to get a leg over.” Sherlock grumbles.

"Always so stubborn." Mycroft sighs. "Have you ever considered the fact that, if you gave him the choice, he might perhaps, reciprocate your feelings?"

Sherlock shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I can’t. Because there’s always the chance he’ll say no. I can’t do that..” _I wouldn’t survive that.._

"I won't." A soft voice said behind him. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Sherlock." John stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed over his chest. "But you've not let me get a word in edgewise." He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I love you, you tit. I've been trying to tell you since last Saturday." He sighs. "As Mycroft as my witness, and I pray to high heaven that I never have to say _that_ again, I swear I love you."

Sherlock whips around. “ _John_..” His voice cracks.

"No. I'm talking." John says gently. "You listen to me, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I have loved you since the pink lady. I never actually realised it until recently. I don't need to be friends with benefits. I need you, wholly and completely. None of this half assed bullshit. I need you to talk, but I also need you to _listen_. Can you do that?"

Sherlock nods, curls bouncing.

Mycroft quietly goes to the outer office to relay information to Anthea, giving his brother and friend a limited amount of privacy.  
John walked over and took Sherlock's hands in his own. "I love you." He murmured. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He pulls the taller man down into a blistering kiss.

Anthea holds up a £50 note to Mycroft, having lost their bet. “Don’t be a sore winner, Sir.” She laughs.  
Sherlock half relieved sighs half sob into the kiss, holding onto John tightly.

Mycroft smirks, plucking the note out of her hand.  
John chuckles, pulling away just enough to press his forehead to Sherlock's. "Berk." He murmured, affectionately.

“Stay. _Stay_. Forever. Please.” Sherlock takes a shaky breath, still holding onto John as if he’d disappear.

"I'll only leave if you tell me to leave." John promises.

“Never. I want you with me always.” Sherlock kisses John, still clinging.

John laughs into the kiss. "Come on. Let's go home."

Sherlock holds John’s hand securely, making sure he stays close as he follows John out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment and let us know what you think!
> 
> Wanna talk about fics or RPing or generally see what I'm up to? Come say hi on Twitter @fuckoffwatson1 or Tumbrl @was-fuck-off-wastson


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